


Quidditch Hooligans

by Powderpuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mistakes, PostWar, Pre-Relationship, Quidditch, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powderpuff/pseuds/Powderpuff
Summary: They wanted a pint, not a general melee.In which Marcus  and Oliver start a bar fight, give everyone a headache, and surprise each other.





	Quidditch Hooligans

**Author's Note:**

> It occurs to me that there is no mention of how the wizarding world is policed, beyond those who hunt dark wizards. So I decided to write something where a group of aurors have to bust up a bar fight, because it was funny to me. It's written in an interview style, because I'm dreadful at regular stories, particularly conversations.

**_Transcript Packet One_ **

_Date: Saturday, September 3 rd, 2000. Time: 1:35. Location: The Rusty Spoon. Contains: Audrey Flint, Marcus Flint, Percy Weasley, Oliver Wood._

_What follows is a transcript of the four interviews conducted by Auror Johnathan Michaels regarding the events of that evening. Other interviews conducted by Aurors Michaels, Matilda Filkes, Jenna Wilson and Junior Auror Reinholt Mortimer to follow._

_You may begin, Miss Flint._

AF: All I wanted was a quiet drink with my brother and his mates. I had no idea that “his mates” meant both quidditch teams.

 Yes, I _know_ it’s traditional, but Marc never invites me if he thinks there’ll be a crowd. Quidditch players get rowdy, you know? And it’s not like I have magic to defend myself.

So, I arrive at the usual time, which is 20:00. Yes, exactly 20:00. Punctuality is important, even to my wretched baby brother.

I get there, and the place is _packed_. Wall to wall people, half of them drunk already. I wandered through that morass, hunting for him, and you know where that jackass was?

 At the bar, doing shots with Wood. You can’t let those two anywhere near each other. It’s like compounded idiocy. They bring out the worst in each other, the absolute worst. And tonight was no exception.

 Marcus is a big bloke, but he doesn’t drink often, so he can’t hold his liquor. The most he can handle is a pint or two. Usually, he remembers that and keeps himself under control, or I keep him under control. But I was too late this time, because there was half a bottle of scotch gone between the two of them.

Yes, the big one.

 I assume they were trying to drink each other under the table, and succeeding beyond their wildest dreams.  I will admit, I was completely at a loss. A drunk, competitive Marcus is not easy to deal with. Once he starts going, he’s impossible to stop, so I decided to just stay close and weather the storm, as it were. There was a tall, red haired man beside Oliver. I thought they must be friends, because he was watching them with a rather resigned look on his face. I knew how he felt.

Marc and Wood were bickering over the match. I gathered that Puddlemere had won, just barely, and Marcus wasn’t taking it well. He was complaining, and Wood was just there, smiling cheerfully, and if he was drunk I certainly couldn’t tell. But then Marcus said something extremely insulting, the sort of thing that he would never say sober-

Of course he has limits! He isn’t nearly as bad as people claim.

 But he said it, and looked properly horrified. Him and everyone else around, I’ll have you know. But Wood just snapped. He punched Marc right in the face, and I must admit that Marc deserved it, and he knows he did. But that boy simply cannot back down from a fight, drunk or sober, so he hit right back, and suddenly I found myself in the middle of a bar fight, which hasn’t happened in years. Of course, I needed to put an end to it immediately, but that is easier said than done, like most situations with Marcus. I couldn’t get close enough to haul them apart, because the fight was turning into an all-out conflagration. I even had to clock someone who thought I was an acceptable target.

Anyway, I ended up beside the red-haired man-Percy Weasley- who also seemed to be trying to find a way to separate them. We eventually decided that he would make a magical barrier, and I would break the other two up. Though by this time, the bar was well and truly destroyed, so possibly we should have gotten well out of it and let your lot sort it out.

But our plan worked, and we did get to them. Of course, by then they had laid off fighting and had begun snogging, which shouldn’t surprise me.

Yes, snogging. I don’t know about Wood, but Marcus has been crushing since he was still in Hogwarts. Yes, I _know_ they have been known to get into fights after matches. Quidditch players are useless with emotions. Ginny Weasley is an outlier.

In any case, I managed to get my hands on Marcus’ shirt collar and pull him off, and Weasley still had that ward up and was reaming out Wood-

Oh no, I never yell at Marcus. Never yell at a Flint, it isn’t constructive and it only makes it worse. And Marcus is the quintessential Flint.

And then you showed up, and here we are. Yes, he probably is still drunk. Yes, some Sobering Potion might be prudent, I’ll get him to drink it first, then send him in. Yes, I can give Wood some too. If you’ll excuse me.

_Now, Mr. Flint. Can you give me an account of what happened?_

MF: The lads and I always hit the pub after a game. Usually just the team, or at least some of the team. But we were this close to the win, then Howard had to go showing off instead of paying attention to the game, and bloody Fowley caught the snitch, right in front of the bastard’s nose. So we all needed a drink.

 And then Howard’s went and invited Puddlemere, because he’s got a thing for Fowley and hoped he’d get lucky, I guess. Like she’s go for someone like _him_ , the pillock. I’d say he let her win, but she’s a top notch seeker.

 And they, naturally, agreed. So we all get here, have a couple beers, and Wood’s being as obnoxious as possible, praising Fowley to the skies like he does-his team speech was _legendary_ in Hogwarts, but it never helped them win, took Potter and that damned broom to do that, and me stuck with bleeding _Malfoy-_

right, sorry.

 Wood was being Wood, and I was sick of Puddlemere and Howard and the whole lot, so I figure I’d go for something harder than a pint the last time around.

No, I couldn’t just leave, I wasn’t letting that lot wreck my night, it’s the principle of the thing.

But I got some of that muggle scotch my dad used to drink before the Death Eaters got him, and that made it a bit more bearable. Then Wood goes off and orders the same damn thing, because “No Englishman’s going to show him up with his own country’s liquor”, whatever the hell that means-I bet he was already wrecked, the lightweight- and then it became a _thing_ , about who could drink more, and finally I went off and got a whole bottle of scotch, challenged him to shots.

Yeah it was stupid, but I lose my head when I drink. I don’t do it much for a reason, and Wood’s got this way of getting under my skin, has since school. It’s never changed.

 So we’re a quarter of the way in and Weasley shows up for Wood, I guess they’re roommates or whatever and Weasley gets twitchy when folks aren’t home when they’re supposed to be, what with the war. But he starts being all sanctimonious because _Weasley_ , trying to get us to stop.

Well of course he failed. Don’t think he tried very hard-Weasley’s as competitive as any quidditch player.

 Then Wood and I get into the taunting because we can’t leave well enough alone ever, and that bottle got emptier and emptier, and Aud showed up and Weasley absolutely was checking her out, and that got me riled-don’t tell her I said that, she’ll date him on principle- and maybe I started taking it out on Oliver a little bit, and I said something that was maybe a little out of line. Wood’s got just as bad of a temper as I do, gets angry real easy but shows it worse than me, and he just clocks me one.

Oh, I deserved it, don’t get me wrong. But I couldn’t let it stand, could I, so I hit him back.

And that set the whole bar off. So we’re rolling around, breaking things, other people are involved, and my blood’s up, and Oliver’s got that look in his eyes, you know, the one he gets when he’s all focused on the task at hand. Serious, you know.

 I like to fight, a real, violent fistfight, instead of dueling with wands and whatever, and Oliver gets it, he just understands it-

no, it’s different than that, I can’t explain-

and, well…I was really drunk and high on adrenaline, and well. Erm…

Audrey told you what happened, right? I don’t have to say it? Because I haven’t had nearly the time to process this.

Thanks.

Audrey managed to haul us apart, and the captains, his and mine, they were too busy tussling to pay attention to us tonight, but I’m getting bawled out tomorrow, I just know it, the same way Weasley bawled out Oliver. And that’s that.

What’s that? Weasley? Okay.

_Ah, Mr. Weasley._

PW: This is a disaster. I am a representative of the ministry! What will they say? And I shudder to think of what that Skeeter woman will write. Quidditch is all very exciting, but the players are always so high-strung.

Yes, that was me screaming at the Cup game last year. No, I don’t think it is the same thing at all. Well of course I was excited, Ginny is very good, and I am so pleased with her success.

Now, I can’t say I’m as pleased with tonight’s events.

I had returned from work-we are currently in talks with the Iranian ministry regarding magic carpets, _again,_ so I was really quite tired. I decided to read a bit, wait for Oliver to get back, and then decide on dinner. He is usually home about an hour after a game, so it is no bother to wait. But, obviously, he did not come home, and I was concerned.

Yes, I know the war is over and done with, and Oliver is an adult, but nevertheless. There is always the fear that Oliver will get too involved with something and forget to come home. Or eat. Or shower. Or sleep. It’s happened before, you know.

As I was about to go down to the pitch and look, I received an owl from him, inviting me to this place. I will admit I was quite relieved, but that changed very quickly, let me tell you.

 When I got here he was involved in a drinking contest, if you can believe it, and at his age, too! I’ve given him a piece of my mind, and it was well deserved.

No, I can’t blame Flint alone, though goodness knows he had a hand in it. Oliver doesn’t need help getting into trouble, and he goads Flint as much as Flint goads him. I wonder how I never cottoned on to it-it’s been right there all along.

Once I arrived, it was too late to do anything-you must deter those two almost immediately, and if you fail it becomes a waiting game. And of course, they were trying to rile each other up, like they always do. Seven years in the league, you would think they would know how to behave.

While I watched them get increasingly inebriated, and their teammates, of course, were just sitting back and cheering them on, oblivious to consequences, I noticed a woman approach.

Yes, it was Audrey Flint, we were introduced later. My goodness she’s tall, it’s rare a woman can look _me_ in the eye. But I could tell by the look on her face that she was also apprehensive about the way the night was going.  We were clearly right to feel so.

The bottle was nearly empty, and they both had drunk far too much, when Flint made his comment that set the whole situation off. He’s always been reckless. Unfortunately, Oliver shares that little character trait. He actually went and hit Flint, and while I think we can all agree it was deserved, it isn’t behaviour one expects from Oliver.

 Oh yes, I agree. It’s that boyish enthusiasm, I think. My little nephew Louis tends that way too. it can be quite disarming if one isn’t used to it. Oliver and I shared a dorm in Hogwarts, which is why I can see past the façade.

You have been told of the general brawl, yes? Then I do not have to reiterate it?

I managed to get to Audrey, or perhaps she got to me. It’s fairly well known that she’s a squib-

Oh yes, Flint used to be teased mercilessly about it, particularly by the other Slytherins. At least until the growth spurt gave him the size to match his temper. After he broke someone’s jaw, no one said a word about her.

But because of the squib business, she was very understandably nervous, particularly since all those drunk people were beginning to remember they had magic. Luckily, I remembered first, so I managed a shield spell for us, in order to more easily reach the other two.

Yes, we _did_ catch them snogging. I _said_ I should have noticed something beyond rivalry between them. But I gather that they are just as surprised. I imagine I will be seeing the Flints with great frequency in the coming days.

Of course I’m pleased. Miss Flint, at least, can keep her head in a crisis. And she’s rather brilliant- she is something called a soil scientist, and it sounds fascinating.

Good evening, Auror Michaels. Certainly I’ll tell Harry to remember about Tuesday, I shall see him Sunday at the Burrow.

_Well Mr. Wood, you are the last. I see they took care of the bleeding._

OW: Yeah. Flint’s got one hell of a right hook. We haven’t fought in ages, I forgot how good at it he was. Hell of a chaser too, but don’t tell him I said that. I suppose you’re after what happened.

 Well, it began during the game. The Magpies have a reputation as an aggressive team, and it’s well earned. They aren’t dirty players, but they come close. Puddlemere’s good, but we aren’t ruthless. Our chasers started out with the quaffle, but the Magpies intercepted with a really well executed corkscrew turn and-

What? You don’t want an analysis of the game?  But it was brilliant!

 Oh fine.

Howard invited us all to the pub here after. I haven’t been out in ages, and the team’s always nagging at me to be more social, so I agreed. Good for team unity, and it seemed to annoy Flint, and that’s always a highlight.

I was still on that high, you know, the one you get when you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, when you’re down to the wire, when you think it’s all over and you’ve lost, it’s just you and your team against the enemy, and it’s win or die trying but you’re sure it’s more the dying part-

Right.

I was thrilled about winning, so I sent an owl for Percy to come down. There’s a bloke who needs to work less.

Quidditch is different.

There I am, talking to the team, when I hear Flint order a scotch. And I hadn’t been, ordering scotch I mean, but it’s a Scottish drink and I should drink it more than I do. And if Flint was going to be drinking scotch, I wasn’t going to let him show me up. And we got into it a bit, and he goes and offers to buy a bottle so we can see who can outdrink who. And I agreed, because I wasn’t going to let him think I was scared.

And because it’s us, Marcus and I started the trash talk like always. It’s almost a ritual at this point, we do it before and after every game we’re against each other. That bottle got pretty empty I have to say, and the more we drank, the worse it got, and then Flint’s sister and Perce had their little moment there.

Of course I noticed, I’m not blind.

Look, I get we were both a little drunk…well, a lot drunk in his case. Flint doesn’t drink a whole lot, and it makes him worse than usual. But we were drunk anyway, and he said what he said. Credit where credit’s due, he looked pretty apologetic right after. But sometimes I get a little ahead of myself, so I punched him, like I haven’t done since Hogwarts. And Marcus is Marcus, so he gave just as good as he got.

And I’ll admit, I like fighting with Marcus. I don’t do it much, upsets mum, and if mum’s upset we’re _all_ upset, so there it is. And it never seems right to fight anyone _but_ Flint, because we’re roughly the same size, and he’s tough enough I’m not afraid to injure him. We’re used to it, see, know each other’s weaknesses and all. Years of quidditch rivalries. And other things, yeah.

 The whole place had gone mad by then, like those football hooligans you read about in muggle papers. But at the time all I could think about was fighting Marcus, and I guess he noticed I was enjoying it, and he was too. It’s always been weird between us, like we should have been, I don’t know, friends. And I suppose he realized that too, because the whole kissing thing.

Then suddenly Marcus’ sister’s got him by the collar-you may have noticed she’s nearly the same size as he is, they would have made a fair pair of beaters-but she’s hauling him up, and Percy’s giving me his “prefect lecture”, and then the aurors came.

We are? Excellent, I’m starving.

 _Auror recommendation:_ _Community service by helping Collins fix pub, possible anger management classes for Messrs. Flint and Wood, preferably separately. Group aware of wrongdoing, advise against pressing charges._


End file.
